A New Friend
by dovakinda
Summary: Set immediately following the events of the Battle of Kaer Morhen in The Witcher 3. The story of Keira and Lambert after they leave Kaer Morhen. Keira needs a Witcher's help to solve the Catriona Plague. Based off of the games and the books. Keira/Lambert M is mostly for language as well as detailed violence and gore. Spoilers of the Witcher 3. Work in Progress!
1. Stay

This is a stupid story, largely unedited work in progress that I'm working on for fun after the events of the Battle of Kaer Morhen in the Witcher 3. **THERE IS A HUGE SPOILER JUST AHEAD.**

This first chapter is an introspective on the events following the battle and is largely unoriginal, apologies.

-Chapter 1. Stay.-

The flames were difficult to look away from. Geralt held the torch steady just above the old witcher's lifeless body. Despite what had just taken place, it was a very calm and beautiful evening. The moon was beginning to fall behind the fortress of Kaer Morhen, leaving very little light. Her eyes fell on Geralt, who was still. She had grown fond of him, after he had helped her in Velen. Though, given the choice to go back she never would have agreed to come to Kaer Morhen.

She could not take her eyes from Vesemir's body as he slowly ignited the funeral pyre. Everyone stood in silence. Keira did not know Vesemir, but she sensed the grief in the air. She stood silently, next to Lambert who was scowling at the flames. Lambert, was nothing like Geralt. Geralt was the only witcher she had ever met, so she assumed his comrades would be the same. Cold, hardened warriors on the exterior, but loyal and righteous on the inside.

Lambert was younger than Geralt, perhaps younger than she was, it was difficult to tell as she knew Witchers did not age as normal humans, their bodies regenerated quickly due to the mutations which slowed the aging process. Though they weren't ageless. Vesemir appeared significant older than the rest of them, but had been strong and full of life until his last breath. No witcher has ever died in his own bed, a phrase she had overheard Geralt say at one point.

Lambert's hair was very dark and short, and his face had but one deep scar that ran through his right eye. All witchers had many scars, these were no doubt the result of injuries that might've killed a regular person. His eyes were the same and Geralt's. A brilliant and unnatural gold color and wolf like, calculating and hypersensitive. His medallion was exactly the same as Geralt's, notifying the world that he was a Witcher of the School of the Wolf in Kaer Morhen.

Keira saved his life tonight, and just before she had asked him coyly if he would accompany her to Kovir. She was once again in need of a witcher's services, and knew Geralt would not come with her again this time. The young witcher crossed his arms, and continued to stare though her expression softened as he sighed. He did not notice her watch him.

"I'll find somewhere in the Valley to winter this year." She overheard the other witcher say to Geralt.

"Why don't you stay… Kaer Morhen is still our home-" She could hear the hint of desperation in the Rivian's voice.

"Geralt." Eskel said, his own Gold eyes meeting Geralt's "we've known that this place was done for some time now." He said, "There's no reason for us to stay, especially now that Vesemir is gone."

Geralt said nothing, but glanced toward Lambert who was still staring at the flames. Lambert did not react, though Keira knew he had heard that conversation. In a way, she empathized with them. They were the last of the wolfs. She knew what it felt like to be alone.

She was lost in thought when Geralt started towards her. "Thank you Keira, for everything." Keira looked at him, and put her hands on her hips. "Can I be honest with you Geralt?" She said. "Had I known what would happen here I never would've come anywhere near Kaer Morhen, and we shall leave as soon as Lambert is feeling better." Geralt looked away at this, she sensed he felt guilty. "But, I'm glad I could help…." She said lightly. It was true, she did owe Geralt. Not just for his help in Velen, but because he stopped her from certain death. Geralt glanced quizzically at Lambert, who was still unresponsive and now vacantly staring at the flames. "Going together?" He asked.

"I've an idea, and I need a witcher to see it through." She looked at Geralt, "Lambert has agreed to come with me." Geralt looked at Lambert again, surprised. He did not acknowledge him. "Hm." Geralt said, crossing his arms. "Good luck."

"You as well. We're even now." She said with a light smile. Geralt did not smile, but his expression softened. She assumed that he was still too stricken with grief to return her smile. He gazed at Lambert again, Keira assumed he would want to say goodbye to him.

He made his way to her new companion, "Can we talk?"

Lambert raised a brow, "What about?" He asked with a shrug.

"Are you holding up okay?"

"Hah, I love questions like that." Lambert shook his head and looked at the old witcher. "Am I Holding up? What? My Dick? Geralt, this is shit. You know that." He said crossing his arms, gaze fell back on the funeral pyre. He let out a very long sigh. "Knew the old man couldn't live forever. Huh. Even told Eskel that when it came time I could have his sword." Lambert looked down, shaking his head again. "Fits my hand perfectly too, you know." He uncrossed his arms, and let out a long sigh. He was silent momentarily, and Keira noticed he looked visibly pained. "But… Vesemir deserved a better death. Whereas, he died like a louse – crushed…." He looked down, the grief was audible in the young witcher's voice.

"We'll avenge him." Geralt said.

"Doesn't look that rosy to me." Lambert said cynically.

"Listen… try not to fight with anyone. They've all come here to help."

"What, you're gonna tell me how to behave now?"

"No, just asking you nicely."

"Well how's this for a nice answer:" Lambert scowled at Geralt, "Kiss my ass. Sheesh." He looked away.

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Disappointed?"

"No, most grow wiser with age. You just grow pricklier."

"Mom always said I was different."

Keira recognized just how different they were. "See you around Lambert." Geralt said with a sigh. "Take care of yourself Brother." He said softly. Geralt, along with the others headed to the courtyard. Keira and Lambert stayed behind.

"Are you always like this?" She asked curiously.

"Like what? Charming?"

"I suppose that's one way to describe it." She sighed, turned towards him. "Are you wounded?" She asked seriously. They hadn't really had a moment to talk since the battle. "Just a few scratches." He glanced down at his arm, which was bleeding slowly from a deep laceration he had sustained in the battle. "Probably will need to brew something before we go."

"Let me do that, you should rest." She said. Lambert cut her off. "Listen, lets get one thing straight. I'm not Geralt. I agreed to help you because you saved my life."

"Nor would I ask you to be Geralt. If I'd wanted his help, I'd have asked it." She said with a coy smirk. At this point she looked Lambert up and down. He was an attractive man, she thought. He turned to her, and cocked his head to the side. Lambert could feel any eyes on him from any distance, though Keira had made no attempt to be subtle.

"You seem like the type who knows how to manipulate a man. That flattery probably worked on Geralt, but it won't work on me." He said, raising a brow. He returned the favor, his eyes pausing at the necklace that was sitting between her mostly exposed breasts. Her dress left very little to his imagination, but just enough to make him want to tear it off of her body to see what else she was hiding. Keira, seemed to relish this. "I'm not an errand boy, so tell me why we are going to Kovir." He said demurely, crossing his arms.

Keira smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder, she touched a hand to her chest. Lamberts eyes fell again to her exposed chest, before darting up to met hers. She held his gaze, longer than most would be comfortable. "There will come a time in a relationship when a woman will eventually allow a man to stop guessing what she is thinking." She said, slowly. "At that point… he will know her so well," She stepped closer to him, Lambert did not move an inch, nor did he seem flustered that she was so close to him that now all he could smell was her perfume, which was that of water lillys. "… that he will not need to guess." Her voice was soft, like velvet. He wanted to wrap himself in that voice in that moment. Lambert's expression softened instantly. His composure was gone, all he wanted was to know her. Her eyes fluttered as she looked at his lips. He leaned closer, as if to pounce at that moment. His eyes shut instinctively, and his lips would have met hers, had she not pulled back slightly. "This is not one of those times, darling." She said under her breath, holding his now helpless gaze. He looked at her, lost in her bright eyes. Lambert thought he might do anything to get her to stay close to him. She began to separate from him.

"stay…" he breathed, there was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I'll explain everything soon. You have my word." She backed away, "But, you should rest now." She said as she turned to take her leave. She had rendered him speechless, something that did not happen often. Lambert could not take his eyes from her as she left.


	2. A Hollow Farewell

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Witcher Series or any of its characters**

 **Note:** This story is a work in progress. I expect its going to evolve as I write. Reviews and constructive criticism are helpful in that regard! :)

Lambert awoke with a dull pain in his injured arm. The elixirs had long worn off, but the wound had healed for the most part. He raised his arm, while sprawled out on the cot checking the bandage. It would probably need to be cleaned once more, he thought. He laid in the bed that he had never liked. It was too soft, the sheets were too thin, itchy and his feet dangled off the edge. He stared vacantly at the stone ceiling.

Decades ago, when he was a young witcher in training, he would come to this room during the bitter winters when there was not much else to do except meditate and study. He would think about his mother, alone with his drunken fool of a father. He imagined what might have happened, had his father died that day he wandered into a nest of nekkers. He thought about the beasts tearing his father to pieces. He took comfort in these thoughts. Laying here brought similar thoughts to his mind. Geralt had called him prickly, but the truth was he had accepted his fate years ago. His bitterness had just become a coping mechanism.

 _Footsteps._ He heard quiet feet on the stone just outside his door. _Keira._ He knew instantly, he could smell her before she entered the room. "How are you feeling?" The soceress's voice was warm, and soothing. Alone it lifted his spirits. He had not been successful at getting her out of his mind since that night. He was drawn to her, by a force seemingly out of his control.

Until this moment, had never understood Geralt's relationship with Yennefer of Vengerberg. The way he looked at her, or how someone like him could be manipulated so easily. Lambert had not met many sorceresses. Triss Merrigold and Yennefer were his only acquaintances. He did not like either of them. Both had agendas of their own. It was always very difficult to guess what their true intentions were.

He was not Geralt of Rivia, the white wolf, or the Butcher of Blaviken. He did not dine with kings and queens and had no use or interest in politics. He killed monsters for whoever would pay him. His encounters with sorceresses had always been second hand, and usually involved Geralt. His eyes scanned Keira fully now. He hadn't truthfully had a chance to really look at her, on account that it had been dark the night before.

She was easy on the eyes, beautiful in her way. Her hair was short and the color of straw. It framed her soft, perfect features in short layers. She wasn't terribly tall. If anything, her frame was delicate. Her eyes were captivating, but if anything did not seem to match her features. They were bright green. Lambert knew as well as anyone that sorceresses enhanced their appearance through magic, their profession required it. She had the appearance of a young woman, no more than 22 years old. Of course, Lambert suspected that she was much older than that. Though he knew she was the youngest member of the lodge. It was her eyes that were most intriguing to him, as they revealed so much of who she was. Her dress was equally distracting and revealing as the outfit she had worn last night. If he was careless, he could end up as her puppet. He owed her his life though, and if there was one thing he hated it was being in debt to someone.

He gazed at her from his bed, "Better," Lambert began and rose slowly. He was shirtless, wearing only loose fitting linen pants. At the center of his collar bone, his medallion was clearly visible. He could feel it humming dully against his skin, no doubt as a result of her presence. From this view the early morning sunlight clearly illuminated all of the scars on his body. He felt Keira examine his body, again she made no attempt to be subtle. He could hear her heartbeat quicken, and this in turn excited him. "Enjoying the view?" He said finally, with this he turned around, grabbing a loose fitting white shirt from on top of his dresser and pulling it carelessly over his broad shoulders. He was well built, but slightly leaner than Geralt. Scars covered his torso and shoulders. Witchers healed quicker than regular humans, many wounds that would have killed normal men simply left scars on Lambert's body. "Most definitely," Keira began, her eyes met his lustfully, "Though, I'd rather not linger here, we don't have much time." She said with a coy smirk.

The young witcher looked her up and down curiously. "We don't need much time..." Lambert said raising a brow as he inched closer to her. "There will be plenty of time for that later." She looked up at him confidently. Lambert frowned, "Heard that one before." He said cynically, turning back towards his things away from her and gazing towards the door. Keira didn't react, she merely crossed her arms and averted her gaze.

Admittedly, he was half expecting Vesemir to walk through the door to his room. A sudden wave of grief came over him, he was uncharacteristically solemn in that moment. Vesemir, despite the fact that he had plucked him unwillingly from his home, had always been like a father to him. He glanced out the window, where the early morning light was filtering into his bedroom. It couldn't have been long past sunrise. "I was going to go down to the workshop. Make a few things for the journey, it'll be winter before we know it." He said. He glanced slowly around his room. "I won't be back here."

Keira crossed her arms, "No?" She said. "You don't sound terribly upset to be leaving your home."

Lambert laughed bitterly. "You Kidding? This dump?" He crossed his arms and cocked his head. "This was never my home." He paused, "I'm glad to be leaving." The solemn expression had all but evaporated from his face. Keira rose a brow, and shook her head. "Been trying to convince that old man to leave this place for a few years now." He grunted.

"Well, if you're feeling better. I need to go to Velen to collect some things. I left rather quickly, I don't intend to return there either." At this point Lambert had turn towards his armor which was set against his dresser. There wasn't much in his room Keira noticed. Save for a few trinkets, two small daggers, several books and some risqué drawings of well-endowed women. Her eyes lingered on his things for a moment, and her expression softened. There was something calming to her about the way his things were scattered across his dresser. It revealed more about him than she might have gotten from reading his mind.

"Velen?" Lambert protested. "You're joking right? We'll be up to our asses in snow by the time we get there!" Thought it was only early autumn, the winter was fast approaching and they had little time to gather funds and find a proper place to winter.

"Are you dense? I'm a sorceress." She crossed her arms, "We'll be there and back before mid day." She rolled her eyes. He grunted again in protest, and looked away. "I hate portals." He muttered. "Fine, stay if you wish." She said coldly. "I shan't be long."

With that, his medallion began to vibrate vigorously now as she opened up a portal effortlessly. Within seconds she disappeared from his room. "Fucking sorceresses." He muttered, collecting his things.

Lambert was sitting in the courtyard of Kaer Morhen when she returned, dressed now. He was sharpening his sword with gentle and attentive precision. He did not look up when she returned but he knew she was coming; he could feel his medallion tremble on his skin.

"Are you ready to set off? Have you made your peace with this place?" Keira said, clearly somewhat irritated that he could not be bothered to greet her. He did not look up again, and merely paused his actions. He had hated Kaer Morhen since he arrived, that was no secret. At times the giant fortress felt more like a prison than him home. He did not think about walking the grounds, or being nostalgic. Nor did he consider the fact that he was likely the last witcher from the School of the Wolf to go through the Trial of the Grasses. No, Lambert wasn't sentimental like that.

He forced a laugh, "Made my peace?" He shook his head "Fuck this place." He said bitterly without looking up from his silver sword. His steel sword, was sitting next to him in its sheath. He stood up, and twirled the weapon skillfully.

Keira watched him, with a fondness that he hadn't felt or seen in a long time. He sheathed his silver sword, and slung both weapons over his back. Walking slowly to the stables, where his and Keira's horses were housed.

His was a Pinto Stallion with white and brown spots and a black mane. He grabbed the reins of both his stallion and Keira's mare, and walked them towards the gates. Keira looked at him expectantly, and he rolled his eyes and sighed as he helped her onto the horse. With that, Keira took off into a trot. Lambert followed, not bothering to glance back at the looming shadow of Kaer Morhen.


	3. A Romantic Evening

I posted this initially but realized it needed a bit of editing. Editing is a weakness for me, and I get caught up in telling the story that I forget to go back and make sure it makes sense. Anyway, I hope this chapter is more coherent now!

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It was twilight, and still there was no town in sight. They had been on the road for the entire day, and it had not been eventful. The Witcher and the Sorceress chatted along the way, and they did very much enjoy each other's company. Kaer Morhen was far in the wilderness, a days ride from any town. The two came to the crest of a hill, the sky was orange as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky. "Better camp here for the night." Lambert said glancing off into the dark wilderness.

"Out here?" Keira said, she looked disgusted.

Lambert looked over his shoulder at the woman. "Nearest town is half a day from here." He hopped off of his horse, but Keira didn't move. "What were you expecting? Silk sheets? A fire place?" Lambert said scanning the surrounding area for firewood. "We can ride through the night." She persisted. "I'm a sorceress, you're a witcher. There's not much out there that can harm us."

"Lots of dangers lie in wait in the darkness." Lambert said, suddenly serious. He stopped, and scowled at the ground. It sounded like something Geralt would say, but he had learned his lesson. Not long ago his dear friend Aiden, a witcher from the school of the cat, had been killed by bandits at night. They were ambushed, two witchers who could see in the dark. From now on he would err on the side of caution when traveling with a companion. He would not put Keira at risk unnecessarily.

He helped her off of her horse. "We're getting a room next time." She said dangerously.

"Couldn't afford one right now anyway." Lambert shrugged, uninterested in the Sorceress's protests. He knew Keira preferred to live in luxury. Yennefer and Triss were no different. He recalled now how the red haired Sorceress had stayed in Kaer Morhen more than once, and tore down every animal skin that decorated the main hall. She insisted on excessive amounts of water and would bathe almost daily. His brow furrowed at the thought of the times that Triss had wintered at Kaer Morhen. Still, he preferred to stay in Keira's favor and he knew he would need to take a contract as soon as they got to town. His funds were low, as they always seemed to be.

He examined their surroundings. The hilltop was mostly clear, there were a few trees scattered in the clearing. They were not far from the edge of the forest which was just downhill. After watering the horses, he began to wander towards the brush. "And where are you off?" Keira asked, she could not hide the agitation in her voice.

"I don't know about you, but I would rather not freeze tonight," He began, with his usual biting sarcasm. He noticed quickly that Keira did not appreciate this and he sighed, "We'll need a fire."

"There's no need for that." Keira said, clasping her hands together. A very large fire appeared to be floating now between them. It gave off incredible warmth. This kind of magic made his Igni sign look like child's play. He stared at the fire with a fascination he could not hide. "And I'll not sleep on the ground." She said, with that, the nearby trees seemed to bed and the roots rose from the ground. Lambert watched in awe as she fashioned an elegant shelter from the roots. Inside, there was a soft bed of leaves that looked more comfortable than his bed at Kaer Morhen. "I suppose this will have to do." She sighed.

Again Lambert was at a loss for words. This kind of magic was always fascinating to him, and he adored watching her preform it. He opened his mouth to say something, but he heard movement in the brush below. He turned quickly to face the sound, grasping his silver sword gently and quietly drawing it. "What is it?" Keira asked. She considered herself to have above average hearing, but she was certain her senses paled in comparison to Lambert's.

"Don't know…" Lambert said, walking slowly but confidently to the brush. Keira followed, and extended her right hand which was glowing artificially providing more light as the sun had all but fallen beyond the horizon. He scanned the ground, looking for signs of what might be beyond the tree canopy. She watched now with interest. He knelt down, his sword still in hand and examined the ground. "Footprints." He said, "Hm." Lambert squinted again at the small depressions in the earth. His medallion pulsed lightly against his chest. "What is it?" Keira asked.

"…don't look human." He said, standing up now. "Nekkers, a lot of them." He concluded. Lambert glanced over at his shoulder at her, "And they didn't even invite us to their party..." He twirled his sword, his eyes focused now on the darkness ahead. He could make out multiple footsteps and beings approaching them. "...rude." He said dryly. Keira was about to speak, but Lambert's attention was drawn by another sound. His eyes narrowed, "Incoming!" He shouted.

There were more than he had expected. They jumped quickly out of the shadows and attacked in unison, as Nekkers did. Lambert's sword impaled the first as it jumped at him. He cursed as he dodged the others, but there were far more than he had guessed. He quickly formed the sign of Aard with his fingers, knocking another number of them back. They were recoiled momentarily. Lambert turned quickly, as a Nekker lunged at him from behind and sliced it's head off cleanly. He cursed loudly, dodging another. "Lambert! Brace yourself!" Keira called, he noticed her eyes were now glowing white. She began speaking in the elder speech, and Lambert cloaked himself using Quen. He watched as all of the Nekkers rose several feet in the air. Keira lowered her arms forcefully and the monsters fell, quickly and powerfully to the ground.

Lambert stood up, scanning the bodies of the monsters. There had to be at least 30. He may have been able to handle them without Keira, but he was grateful she was there in that moment. He stared at her in amazement, sheathing his sword. He had truly forgotten the power that these sorceresses possessed. "Thanks," He said, "Remind me not to piss you off."

She smiled and crossed her arms, "Not sure how you've managed without me before." She laughed now.

"I would've handled them." He shrugged, but returned a soft smile. Keira said nothing, just raised a brow as if to question his statement.

They walked together towards their camp, Lambert grabbed two rabbits that he had caught earlier in the day out of one of his saddlebags. He grabbed the dead rodents and sat down on a nearby rock and began to skin and clean the animals. Keira sat on a log, clutching a goblet of mulled wine that she had brought. She watched him fondly, as he gutted their dinner and fashioned a stove with sticks to put the rabbits on. "We should be in Aedd Gynvael early tomorrow." She said. "We'll need to stay a few days there. I'm sure there are some contracts that you can pick up there."

He had never been to that town in Narok, there had never been any reason to go. He didn't ask what she wanted in that town, he knew she would not answer. "Going to tell me what the job is now?" He asked, "What do you need from me?" He pressed.

Keira frowned, and looked offended. "If you must know," She sighed, "I came across notes from a Mage in Velen, who studied the Catriona plague." Lambert looked up now, aware of the disease. "I aim to use his notes to study the disease, and cure it. There are some things I need that are not so easily acquired." She looked at the flames now. He wondered briefly why she was interested in curing the plague. As a sorceress, she was immune to sickness. "These artifacts, require a witcher's touch to extract." She said looking up at him now. He said nothing, merely grunted and continued with what he was doing. So she was using him, he thought. "Could've told me from the start." He said.

"I wasn't sure you'd agree…" She looked upset again.

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze before he stood up and placed the rodents above the flames. He was interested in what artifacts she would need and he had at least a dozen more questions about his role. However he said nothing more, opting to change the subject. "Take it you don't rough it out here often." He said casually, sitting down on the rock once more.

"And why, pray tell, would a Sorceress have reason to sleep outside?" Keira said with a smile, "No, I don't do this often." She looked at the flames. "But, I spent a romantic evening beneath the stars once." She glanced sideways at Lambert.

"Hm, really…." He grunted, though he leaned forward towards her, intrigued. "Sounds like quite the story." He smirked, knowing she would not give him the details but still he listened, eager to hang on every word.

She smiled at him, "Quite the opposite actually. Rather boring." Her eyes held his curious gaze, but revealed nothing. It was maddening. She took a sip of her wine and placed it on the ground next to her. He was curious who the sorceress had been with before or if there had been another that held her fancy. He stood up, and turned the rabbits to make sure they cooked evenly. "What was it? Did he have a small prick?" He pressed. She shook her head, and Lambert turned away from her, "Or maybe he didn't know how to please a woman." His mind raced now.

She stood up quietly, and he turned around surprised at how close she had come. Lambert looked down at her, the fire light really illuminated how beautiful she was, he thought. "He was a friend," She began, walking closer to him.

"Do you fuck all of your friends?" Lambert said unflappably. She looked up at him with her large green eyes and laughed lightly as she shook her head. Stray pieces of her short golden hair fell in front of her eyes as she did. This type of language might offend most ladies, Keira seemed to find it charming.

"Neither of us really felt it was anything more than that…" She said slowly. She raised a hand to his chest, tracing the stitching on his gambeson. "It's always more interesting when you care deeply for your lover." She gazed at him now, expectantly. He knew he couldn't take it any longer. She was far too close, and far too ravishing to stand there passively. Lambert slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She felt a tingling sensation that was common when coming into contact with a Witcher. In fact, Lambert emanated strongly, more strongly than Geralt, she thought. She looked up at him, expectantly. Her eyes fluttered once again as she looked at his lips. He kissed her with a passion that she had not felt in a long time. The sensation was a pleasant vibration that she felt throughout her whole body. She had felt it before with Geralt, but Lambert's aura was more intense to her. He gripped her longingly as he kissed her, perhaps afraid that someone or something would take her from him. She pulled away to break the sensation, smiling lightly. Lambert opened his eyes, so content in the moment.

He did not want to separate from her but her could smell the meat burning. He turned, quickly removing the meat from the fire. "Oh fucking hell!" He cursed, Keira covered her mouth to hide her snickering. He looked at the charred meat with a boyish disappointment. He had never been able to cook a damn thing. He remembered in that moment a winter long ago at Kaer Morhen. The witchers took turns preparing food during the winters, but Geralt and Lambert were almost never allowed in the kitchen because they were terrible cooks. Instead, the two witchers would go out into the treacherous winter and hunt whatever game they could find. His expression softened ever so slightly, and Keira noticed this. He pretended to be unfeeling and calculating but Keira noticed he was exceptionally bad at hiding his emotions.

They ate, telling stories of their past adventures. Keira did not pretend to enjoy the food that Lambert had prepared, but ate it anyway. The fire dimmed to embers so that the two were left the cloak of darkness. Keira stood up now, and walked towards the shelter she had created. He watched her longingly, and Keira could tell he wanted to follow her, but she did not indulge him. Instead, she looked back at him with a small smirk, "Goodnight, Witcher."


	4. Aedd Gynvael Part 1

**Note:** The time between my submissions might get longer, I'm moving this weekend. I'm also trying to improve the quality of each chapter. I have a plan for where I want this story to go, with no intention of abandoning it and I promise I'm working on it. :)

Again, this whole story is a work in progress. Chapter names may change in the future, as well as previously submitted chapters as I go back to edit. Reviews are great, I'd love to hear thoughts!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Witcher series or any of its characters.

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A few hours on the road and they came upon a small town on a river. It was like any other small town that he had been to, with narrow roads small buildings and people rushing back and forth all over the streets. The horses slowed down from a trot to a walk as they inched closer. Lambert could make out the shadow of the Dragon Mountain range in the distance. He heard shouting in the distance just out of earshot. No, bickering… he thought. Leaves on the trees were still green, but he knew it would not be long before they changed color and fell to the ground. He scowled at the town in the distance at the thought of the cold weather. "Aedd Gynvael, is built on elven ruins" Keira said, her eyes seemed to be focused on the mountains in the distance as the two rode into the city. "Mhm." Lambert grunted, feigning interest. There was nothing special about this place to him. If anything, it was almost too ordinary, remarkably so. The shouting in the distance was growing louder and more difficult to ignore.

They dismounted as they reached the town's gate. Lambert grabbed the reigns of his stallion and Keira's mare, who snorted in protest at the witcher's touch.

"T'weren't nothing o' this world!"

"Aye, saw the monster with me own eyes."

Just outside the Tavern, there were three men shouting. Two were dirty, perhaps farmers Lambert thought. The other was well groomed, and heavily perfumed. Lambert grimaced, covering his nose as he caught wind of the well oiled noble. No doubt, this man was a lord though he didn't need to be a genius to deduce this. Already he was irritated, and they had just arrived. Keira glanced at him sideways, "Care to see what this rabble is about?" She sighed. Her voice was comforting to him, he glanced over his shoulder at the magician. "Don't need to." He said, "Bunch of fucking idiots trying to convince their lord to get professional help with a monster." He said with a sharp sigh.

"Well how convenient for them that professional help has just arrived at their doorstep." She said, crossing her arms.

"If the price is right." Lambert replied with a soft shrug.

"Well, go on." She said. "I'll meet you at the Inn in the evening." She turned away from him. He looked at her suspiciously. "Got somewhere to be?" He huffed, unable to hide the frustration in his voice.

"I'll leave the monster hunting to the professional." She said with a small smirk. "I've a matter to tend to while I'm here." He couldn't hide his disappointment. He did not bother to ask where she had to be, he knew she would not tell him. He sighed, hitching the horses to a post outside of the inn.

"The sorcerer. Ask him M'Lord, he's sure to 'elp!"

 _Sorcerer…?_ Lambert listened as he sought to the horses. Perhaps there was more to this town than he initially thought. The lord, looked as if he were going to say something, but the men noticed Lambert approaching and fell silent. Lambert now could smell rotting flesh, that was masked initially by the lord's perfume. His eyes fell on a wagon behind the peasants. A white sheet stained with blood covering what he assumed to be a body. He could tell from the smell that whoever it was had died days ago.

"Afternoon Gentlemen," Lambert began, insincerely. "What's this about a monster?"

"None o' yer concern mutant." The peasant said, crossing his arms and glaring at the young witcher. The lord looked at the peasant with disdain.

"And who do I owe the pleasure?" The lord asked. He was medium height, shorter than Lambert with thinning black hair that was knotted at the base of his neck. His face was long, but not gaunt, with a large black beard covering up what Lambert thought were pox marks. His eyes were a dark brown, hooded by bushy black eyebrows. He was wearing an elegant red and gold robe, denoting his high birth.

"Lambert, Witcher." He nodded somewhat carelessly.

"Excellent to meet you, Lambert. I am Gideon, alderman of Aedd Gynvael." He extended his hand with his palm open, Lambert shook it without hesitation. "You see, we have a monster terrorizing the townfolk."

"I gathered as much." Lambert sarcastically, his eyes darting to the cart. "When did this start?"

"Theon, he'd 'eard about the monster, saw it was taking our goats." The other peasant said, "Theon n' me, well… " He looked guilty. Lambert raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Your friend, what happened?"

"I-I dunno. We found ourselves near a cave, not far to the east o' 'ere." The man looked down, "Saw a pair o' golden eyes, an' I ran. Can still 'ear the screams when I close me eyes." The peasant shuddered. He looked forlornly at the wagon now. "I went back to get 'is body today, but…." His voice trailed off.

Lambert made his way casually to the cart, still watching the lord and lifted the linen sheet. His eyes lingered on the alderman momentarily, before falling on the corpse in front of him. There was not much left of poor Theon, and it was a horrifying site to behold. He was a stocky, but otherwise healthy young man, Lambert wagered. His legs were mangled, and both broken. Bone protruded from the left shin and the right knee. His body had been thrown against something with great force.

 _A Flyer, perhaps a Griffin._

There were deep puncture wounds around his gut and his chest. There was also a deep laceration in his abdomen, which revealed most of his organs. The flesh around those wounds was blackened and decaying rapidly. He squinted at the flesh around the wounds, the skin was too decayed to conclude anything. The man's right arm was torn straight off. "Where's his arm?" Lambert asked calmly, entirely apathetic to the gruesome sight.

"T'weren't there, master witcher." The peasant said, cringing at the sight of his friend.

"Hmph." Lambert grunted in disappointment, his eyes fell to the mans face which was severely disfigured. His skull was broken like a fragile egg. "Dropped, from great height… but not before our friend picked him apart…." He mumbled. At first glance, Lambert thought the man's eyes were missing but at second glance he noticed they had melted into his sockets.

 _It was a painful death, but the impact killed him._ He thought. He had seen this before.

 _Basilisk, has to be._

The rest of his face, though decaying, appeared to have been deformed and burned by some sort of acid, and this confirmed his suspicions. He tossed the linen over the man's body again and crossed his arms.

"The rest," Lambert said, now addressing the peasants, "They look like him too?"

Both of the farmers exchanged glances, and removed their bonnets. The one, twisted his hat in his dirty hands. The other stroked his grizzly black beard. "Nothin' left o' the others, Witcher." He said solemly.

"Will you help us?" The noble locked eyes with Lambert,

"300 Koviri Marks, and I'll take care of your problem." The peasants again exchanged worried glances, looking at their lord desperately.

Gideon snorted, clearly offended at the price. "You'll get 150 witcher, and nothing more."

"Then find someone else to deal with your problem." Lambert said with an icy scowl, he lowered his arms and turned to enter the inn.

"Wait Witcher! 200."

Lambert did not stop, merely opened the door to the inn. "300." Lambert said coldly, not bothering to turn around. "Or maybe you'd rather wait until it kills someone important."

"Fine. Gods, you're a shit negotiator."

Lambert did not look over his shoulder, he merely raised his left hand in agreement and entered the inn.

"I want that monster dead tomorrow!" He heard the alderman shout.

The inn was dimly lit despite the fact that the sun was still high in the sky. The windows were small, and let in little light. Despite the fact that it was late afternoon, there was a crowd gathered around a woman who was softly strumming a lute in the center of the tavern. Men sat, listening intently to her ballad. The music was heavy and hung over the crowd, like a dream. Lambert was instantly drawn to her soulful voice. He stood there frozen for a few moments, listening to her song. It was a sad ballad, of star-crossed lovers, and the loss of their child to war. The poet's face was not immediately visible to him. She was a delicate young woman, dressed in a colorful and elegant deep blue dress. Her small elegant hands moved gracefully across the strings. Her long blonde locks fell in front of her pale face, further masked by an elegant white feather in her light blue cap. He walked towards the innkeeper, but could not tear himself from her song.

He sat down at a nearby table, intrigued. He was by no means a connoisseur of poetry or art, but her song triggered memories of winters in Kaer Morhen. Ciri was undeniably Geralt's ward, but he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he cared deeply for the girl. She was perhaps the closest he would ever come to raising a child. Vesemir's death made her life that much more important. He wondered briefly how Geralt was faring in his quest to save her from the Wild Hunt. He had always admired her passion and wit, especially while he was training her at Kaer Morhen. She was always eager to learn and was at times arrogant and overly confident, but she had become a powerful warrior. His expression softened from his usual scowl at the thought. She had never gone through the mutations, the grasses, or the trials. But, how could she? Those secrets were long lost, after the massacre at Kaer Morhen. Whatever was left of that generation died with Vesemir. He was grateful for that. He smiled, she would make a fine Witcher...

There was silence as she ended her song, and applause. He looked up, noticing the innkeep had approached him.

"Drink M'Lord?"

Lambert nodded, placing a few crowns on the table. "A room for a few days."

The Innkeep glanced at the money, "That'll get you the night." He said, Lambert shrugged. The innkeeper pocketed the coin, "Upstairs, first room on the left."

Lambert nodded again. He had not much left, but he was not concerned. The contract he was taking on would more than pay for a few nights here.

His eyes fell on the bard as she looked up from underneath her extravagant hat. She was, as he suspected, a great beauty. Her face was angular, but soft and feminine. She was small in stature, with a relatively flat chest, and a slender waist. The innkeeper placed a drink before him, collecting the coin that he had placed in front of him. She caught his gaze, and stared at him curiously. Lambert looked down immediately, hoping she would not approach him. His mind wandered to the task at hand: the basilisk.

He had slain many over the years, but it had been some time since he had encountered one. At least several years, he thought. He drummed his fingers on the wood aimlessly, before taking a swig of his drink. He would have to be mindful of the acid, he thought. In the past, he had fought a basilisk in the Zerrikainian desert and the beast had the freedom to fly above him and spit it's venom from above before he had been able to ground it with his crossbow. He shuddered, recalling the feeling of the acid on his right shoulder.

Perhaps, he thought, he could engage the beast in its lair. From what he had learned, it sounded like the Basilisk was nesting in a cave to the east. _That would make sense_ , he thought _They prefer damp, dark, confined spaces_. If he could engage the beast in the cave, he felt he could end the fight quickly. A draconid oil would suffice. _That will prevent any collateral casualties..._

"May I join you?"

Lambert looked up, and saw the bard who had placed her lute on the bench. She took a seat, without waiting for an answer and stared at him with curious large blue eyes. The witcher grunted irritably as he was drawn from his thoughts. He shrugged, "Take a seat," He said dryly, as she had already joined him. She smiled lightly, and rested her chin on one of her small hands. Her eyes fell from his own to his medallion around his neck. "You're a witcher" She began curiously, her voice was slow but sweet and melodious. He felt the town folk eyeing them enviously. "Awfully perceptive of you." He said, taking a swig of his drink. "What gave it away?" He said sarcastically.

She leaned closer over the table, continuing to smile. "Your medallion of course." Her eyes fell to the snarling wolf around his neck. He rose a brow, intrigued. He thought that most distinguished him by the two swords he carried on his back. There were not many well versed enough to instantly recognized his Witcher's medallion. "What do they call you?" She asked curiously. His eyes wandered to a group of men in the corner, who were looking at him venomously.

"Lambert." He said impatiently, taking another long sip of his drink. It barely burned his throat, he needed something much stronger.

"Cassandra." The poet said softly, she was un-phased by his bitter demeanor like Keira. Briefly he wondered if he was becoming soft. "You are different than I imagined." She mused, her eyes seemed fell on his scar. He could see her trying to piece the story behind it together and this made him oddly uncomfortable. "Your eyes are correct, but you don't have white hair at all, you're a young man"

Lambert forced a laugh. What an odd thing to say. This young woman, was no older than 20. Lambert, though not nearly as old as Geralt, was more than twice her age. He swung a leg carelessly over the bench and leaned on his right elbow, so he was no longer facing the group in the corner. "They don't write ballads about me, I think you're mistaking me for someone else." His mug was nearly empty now. Clearly, she was thinking of Geralt, who had some notoriety among bards and artists due to his close friendship with the bard Dandelion. There were far too many ballads about Geralt of Rivia to count. Cassandra looked at him quizzically with her large blue eyes. They were captivating, he thought. "Hm, perhaps. You wear the same wolf medallion though." She straightened up, folding her hands neatly on the table.

"That I do," Lambert replied with exaggerated ambiguity, he looked at her expecting more questions, and more curiosity. It was similar in every town he visited. He was an outsider, and outsiders were met with morbid curiosity or violence and scorn. However, she did not press the matter.

"What brings you to Aedd Gynvael? There are no monsters here, witcher." She held his gaze and again Lambert found himself staring into her eyes involuntarily. He looked at her confused,and tilted his head slightly.

"That man out there, he fall off a cliff then?" Lambert gestured a thumb towards the window where the bloodied cart was still visible. He could hear the alderman arguing still with the peasants about where to bury his body, and if the missing should receive gravestones as well. Cassandra stretched her neck ever so slightly, and watched as the men carted the body away. She was silent, "No, the others are probably just missing." He said with a careless shrug, downing his drink. He scowled at the empty mug with disappointment, Cassandra again seemed undaunted by his dry demeanor for a moment. Though she looked solemnly at her lute next to her, Lambert thought maybe had gone too far, and struck a nerve.

"I knew him," She said sadly, Lambert looked down with a small sense of guilt at his empty mug again. _Shit._ He rested his head in his hand, before glancing sideways at her.

"Was he close to you?" He said, more gently now. He did not look at her, instead his eyes wandered to the window where a soft grey mourning dove had perched itself on the sill. It ruffled its feathers, and for a moment Lambert swore it stared straight at him.

"He was in love with me," She said softly. "Terribly jealous of-" She paused, as if considering how much she should tell him. "He had heard of the monster and aimed to bring its head to the alderman. He wanted to prove himself worthy, like the heroes from my poems." She looked down, glaring at the table. "He was a fool."

"Hm." Lambert crossed his arms now and nodded with a slight shrug. Very rarely did he involve himself in personal aspects of his trade. It was, in his mind, unprofessional to breach the emotional boundaries. Geralt did this frequently, allowing himself to get caught up in the politics of it all. Perhaps that was why he had ballads written about his adventures, because he presented himself as a selfless and noble hero. He glanced irritably at the empty mug once more, and then to the innkeep who was otherwise distracted. He felt that he was being watched, the sensation was unsettling. His eyes glanced again to the bird at the window, that remarkably was still sitting there despite the volume in the room. It was watching him intently, and patiently. Cassandra's eyes followed his own, she turned her head and as she turned the bird took off instantly. He stood up now, with nothing left to drink pocketing the key the innkeeper had slipped on to the table. He nodded in farewell, slinging his swords over his shoulder as he headed for the exit. She watched him pensively, for a moment before he exited the inn.

"Witcher,"

He turned around, she had followed him out of the door. "I was wondering," She began, Lambert knew what she was going to ask before the words came out of her mouth. "I know where the monster is, I could go with you-"

"Put that out of your mind." Lambert said coldly, "No."

She crossed her arms, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. He softened slightly, she was beautiful. She opened her mouth to speak, but they were interrupted.

"Oye Freak!"

Lambert rolled his eyes, and glanced behind him. As he expected, the group of four drunk men from the tavern had followed him angrily. He turned now standing in front of Cassandra. "Afternoon gentlemen, I imagine this is going to be a fucking pleasant conversation." He said dryly.

"Yer not welcome 'ere. Leave the lady be!"

Cassandra scowled, "I can think for myself sir, thanks-"

"'Ought to teach im a lesson," One of them cracked his knuckles ignoring her.

"I'm sure I could learn from a scholar such as yourself." He said with a dangerous smile.

"Freaks 'ought to be put in their place."

His eyes darted from Cassandra to the men who were about to jump him. "I don't have time for this." He said. Calmly, he formed Axii with his hand, and instantly the men looked at him now calm and vacantly. He glared a the lead, "You, are going to beat that one within an inch of his life." He said impatiently, gesturing to the large man. His eyes darted to the others. "You'll watch, and stay away from me when I return."

He turned, leaving the men as the events unfolded as he had just dictated. Cassandra followed him and he did not turn her away. He glanced at her briefly before He went to his horse, checking his saddle bag for the draconid oil he knew he had, as well as any elixirs that might help him with the basilisk. She did not seem upset, or afraid despite what he had just done and this both disapointed and intrigued him. He grabbed the bottle from his saddlebag, inspecting it. He wondered if he wanted her to call him an emotionless mutant, an unfeeling killer. She did not judge him.

"They deserve that." Was all she said. He said nothing putting the bottle away in the bag and unhitching his horse. He was prepared for her to plead a case to join him again. He grasped the reigns of the horse and felt her grasp his hand with some urgency. "Thank you for taking care of the monster, I will await your return eagerly." She said swiftly wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a light kiss on his cheek. He didn't push her away, nor did he engage her. Perhaps another time he would have embraced her. He would have whispered in her ear the details of the evening that they would inevitably spend together, there was a part of him that was imagining that now. He had never had much trouble with women, but he wasn't exactly classically handsome. Women were interested in him because of his otherness and his profession as a witcher rather than his looks or his charming personality. She smelled nice, he thought but she did not smell like Keira. He scowled at Keira's horse, suddenly annoyed. She was still very much present in his thoughts. He was annoyed that she hadn't told him where she was going. He was annoyed that she didn't seem to care. He was annoyed that she wasn't the one flinging her arms around his neck.

He turned his gaze to Cassandra, and looked down at her unable to hide the frustration on his face. He was irritated that she did not react in the way he had anticipated. She still did not understand, she thought him a hero but this was his trade. He was not emotionally invested or tied to this task. Perhaps common folk did not understand that. The way that Cassandra was staring at him did not suggest otherwise. "Farewell." Was all he could say, while the blonde haired sorceress still occupied his thoughts. Cassandra watched him head east with a dreamy smile.


	5. Aedd Gynvael Part 2

So I'm officially moved in, I'm aiming to get one chapter out a week.

I have a vision for this story so stay tuned. :) Thanks for reading.

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The sun was setting rapidly behind the shadow of the Mountains in the valley. The country in the Toina valley was truly beautiful, with beautiful trees and flowers dotting the riverside. There was a lot more green here than in the countryside around Kaer Morhen, no doubt due to the change in elevation. Lambert's steed slowed to a walk and snorted. The road came to an end, splitting off in two roads leading north and south respectively. He scanned the ground and noticed footprints that did not seem too old. His horse snorted again, and he gave the animal a firm, reassuring pat. "Easy." He mumbled as he dismounted. Out of the saddle bags he grabbed the draconid oil and an elixir that would allow him to see in the dark. The sky was a brilliant orange color now, Lambert could see through the shade of the trees. It would be dark in minutes.

He sat down, on a nearby rock and his horse trotted to a nearby field to graze. He unsheathed his sword and methodically applied the oil to the blade with a rag. He felt again as if there were eyes on him but he could not distinguish the source. He stared suspiciously at the brush, unable to make out any sounds or movements that would indicate that he was not alone. He stood up now, sheathing his blade. He knelt down, examining the footprints he had seen earlier. They were no more than a day old, and headed directly towards the foot of the mountain range in the East. He was not far from Aedd Gynvael now, only couple of miles outside of town. He stood up now, clearly seeing the path that the person had took. He gingerly uncorked the decoction he had created earlier and downed it relatively quickly. It was not a pleasant taste, or sensation. When he was younger, he had always had trouble keeping the elixirs down. He recalled a time when he was a young witcher in training at Kaer Morhen. His instructors had concocted the strongest elixirs with the most powerful stimulants for him to take to prepare his body for the trials. The result was a sleepless night with vivid and horrifying hallucinations. Now, he was so accustomed to the stimulants in the elixirs, it was almost as if he was drinking an ale. He only felt slightly dizzy from the elixir, though he knew this was merely a side effect from a potion that would normally kill someone.

He followed the footprints, waiting for the elixir to kick in. They were not deep depressions, in fact Lambert wagered that they belonged to a woman. The sun had now fallen, though Lambert had barely noticed, his eye sight had actually improved. He knelt down again, noticing the footprints had disappeared. Blood replaced the footprints, and there were long skid marks as if someone had been dragged towards the cave. The blood was fresh, no more than a few hours old. He stood up, feeling the elixir kick in. His heart rate increased and slowly, the world around him came to life. He could hear in the distance a pack of wolves devouring a stag, stray cats fighting over scraps and the incessant chirping of every cricket around him. The sounds grew louder and he could hear in the distance, Cassandra's lute in the tavern, her soft voice singing another lovely ballad and the grunts of the men who were most likely surrounding her. A few moments later and he could make out the words, where she described a young witcher with a wolfs medallion who slayed a beast that was terrorizing a town. He scowled ahead, he had never been made the subject of a ballad before, at least not to his knowledge.

He could make out the sounds of what he assumed to be the basilisk as he reached the mouth of the cave. He paused, staring into the opening. He felt a gentle breeze that seemed to indicate the cave was relatively deep. The breeze carried the scent of rotting flesh and week old corpses. The sky, was now dark, and there was no moon in view. He could feel his pulse quicken, the result of the elixir increasing his adrenaline levels. He drew his sword, silently and entered the cave cautiously. The basilisk, though out of view now and no doubt much farther into the cave, seemed to be distracted by something but he knew that their hearing was superb. The cave was relatively unremarkable. The ground was damp, as he expected, and he could see that there was a significant drop downwards just ahead. On the right wall of the narrow corridor, he noticed body slumped against the wall. It was barely recognizable, and completely mutilated. "I'm in the right place." He mumbled.

Lambert twirled his sword skillfully and stopped before the drop off. He noticed several rocks leading down to the base of the cave that he could use to climb down. Again, he felt as if someone was watching him. He snapped his head quickly to look behind him, but still saw nothing. He could hear nothing out of the ordinary. He was alone with the monster in this cave. The sensation made him incredibly uncomfortable, though he couldn't determine if it was due to the elixir.

He bounded down the rocks, silently and swiftly. The view ahead was a relatively large and open chamber of the cave. Here he could see the beast, hunched over its most recent victim. It looked to be something between a giant reptile and a bird. It was enormous, much larger than any other basilisk he had faced. It's wings were large, with huge talons and thick dull green feathers. It was covered in dark gray and green scales, and Lambert could hear the clicking of it's razor sharp beak. Its talons were the size of small swords, picking apart its dinner playfully. The basilisk paid no attention to him.

"Hey, you dumb fuck!"

Lambert shouted, raising his arms up carelessly. The beast raised it's head abruptly, snapping its neck around to look at who had interrupted its meal. It screeched loudly, Lambert grimaced slightly. He had not noticed the range of tones in a basilisk's cry before. It turned quickly to face him, extending its wings and standing on its large haunches. He formed the sign of Igni, before the beast could spit its acid at him and it cried out lunging at him swiftly. Lambert smiled dangerously, and dodged the monster's talons with great skill striking its wings.

The beast cried out again, and Lambert parried the blow from its other claw countering with a slash to it's chest. He moved his feet quickly to avoid being torn to pieces. The beast was fast, much faster than he had anticipated. He tumbled underneath the wing, launching himself off the the wall of the cave to land on the back of the basilisk. It screeched again, before Lambert buried his blade in the back of the monster's neck. It howled in pain, collapsing to the ground as he slashed it again.

He breathed heavily now, sliding off of the animal and stood next to it. He raised his left hand to his face, wiping it with the back of his glove. He turned, sensing the presence again. "Hey!" He shouted wildly now, still feeling the full effects of the elixir. He could not see or hear anything out of the ordinary. He felt his medallion vibrate vigorously, there was something further into the cave. He wanted to continue, feeling a tingling sensation in his right upper thigh. He ignored it, scanning the area frantically to look for the source of magic.

At this point, Lambert looked maniacal. His pupils were extremely dilated to the point where the yellow color of his eyes was barely visible. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, making him wildly anxious to burn off the energy. He could hear in the distance someone speaking in the elder tongue. He hurried now, down a narrow path deeper into the cavern. In the distance he could actually make out what appeared to be architecture. The path opened up into a large chamber, and his eyes wildly tried to process everything he was seeing.

Directly in front, he could see a long narrow bridge that led to another passage. The bridge was intricate, and ornate, with pillars on either side. Clearly he had entered the remains of an ancient elven city. He recalled Keira mentioning briefly that Aedd Gynvael was built on top of Elven ruins. On either side, two elven statues stood guarding the passage. Lambert could tell that the passage had been magically sealed before. He jogged carelessly across the bridge, looking for signs of another person who had been here just moments ago. He looked up, hearing chanting in the elder speech again and raced down the passage which opened up into a large chamber. Several hundred yards ahead, he could see a hooded figure holding something. He could not make out any details of the figure's appearance aside from the hood. The figure was illuminated by a blueish green glow, which he imagined was some sort of spell or object. To the figure's right side, a large portal opened up and the figure wasted no time stepping through the portal.

Lambert sheathed his sword, and looked around. His medallion was still oscillating but it was less intense He could feel the fatigue starting to set in and the effects of the elixir beginning to wear off. He appeared to be in some sort of library or laboratory. Seconds later, another portal opened up next to him and Keira stepped out, radiant as ever. She was wearing a different dress he noticed. This one was white and red, with a plunging neckline. It clung to her body more tightly than the other dress she had been wearing. It was a sleeveless dress, but she was wearing deep red sleeves that covered most of her arms, with the exception of her shoulders. A gold necklace, with a brilliant white, opaque crystal sat against her chest. He watched as her chest rose and fall with her breath. Time seemed to stop. Her green eyes met his, with confusion.

"Lambert?" She looked at him surprised, "What are you doing here?"

"The basilisk contract..." He began laboriously, he was finding it surprisingly difficult to speak.

"How long have you been bleeding like that?!" She shouted, rushing over to him.

Lambert looked down, suddenly aware of the dull stinging in his right thigh. He reached down with his right hand, flinching when he found the wound. "Damn...it..." he groaned quietly, feeling the pain become more and more prevalent. He wobbled slightly, noticing it was exceptionally difficult to stand now. He felt incredibly dizzy, and glanced at Keira's face once again. He could see her lips moving, but he could not hear a word she was saying. Her face became more and more blurred. He swayed again, and fell against her. He was surprised that was able to support him. She was much stronger than she looked. A portal opened up in front of him before everything went black.


	6. Aedd Gynvael Part 3

I know I haven't updated this story in awhile... but I do think about it a lot. I still have skeleton notes about the story I wanted and I plan to finish it, but I had some personal problems last year that I had to deal with and couldn't get anything down on paper.

This is a super dialogue heavy chapter, and I really hate writing dialogue... but was necessary to progress the story. Maybe that is why it's taken me so long to write this down. I may come back to this chapter and edit/revise later but like I said I just wanted to get this out there.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read/review/follow. I intend to finish this story. :)

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When Lambert awoke, his vision was so blurred that he could barely make out the oak ceiling above his bed. His senses were noticeably dulled and he could barely feel his own body. He took a minute to breathe and collect himself. After a few moments of laying in bed disoriented and calming down, his senses returned. He slowly roused himself, groaning loudly as he gingerly propped himself up against the wooden headboard. His eyes scanned the room, as if he was looking for some sort of explanation for how he had arrived in this condition.

The first light of morning was filtering through the open window, several yards to his left. He noticed his two swords leaning against a nearby wall. It was cloudy, and the early autumn air was crisp as it gently drifted into the wooden room. It was only as the air grazed his skin that he realized he was not wearing any clothing. The bedding was horribly itchy, making the already stiff mattress even more uncomfortable. He gathered he was in the same tavern from the night before based on the sounds and smells. The room was modestly decorated with furs, simple candlesticks and a single tapestry. The tapestry was embroidered with Koviri coat of arms and hung on the wall directly in front of him.

After orienting himself to his surroundings, he tried to remember what had happened after he had killed the basilisk on the outskirts of town. He recalled elven ruins, and a magical presence. He glanced around the room again, realizing quickly that he was alone in this room.

 _Keira..._

Suddenly, he had the familiar sensation that someone was watching him. His head whipped almost instantly to the window where he felt the presence, and he noticed a small dove perched on the window sill. He watched it suspiciously for a few moments, but it did not retreat when he locked eyes with it. In fact, Lambert thought it did not behave as a bird should when confronted by a larger being. He wondered if it was even a bird at all, and not some sort of magical manifestation. He tried to recall any literature he had read on the subject but his stomach growled, and he became distracted.

"Fuck off!" He grumbled impatiently, and the bird instantly retreated into the cloudy morning. He looked around once more, noticed a wooden tray sat with a roasted goose leg and a roll of bread. The tray was just out of reach, and as he moved to grab a bite he fell a sharp pain shoot through his thigh.

"Ack!" He groaned, removing the blankets quickly to determine the source of the pain. There was a fresh bandage on his thigh, that had very little blood on it. He methodically attempted to remove the bandage, inspecting the wound that he had sustained. There was a long laceration along most of his outer thigh, he flesh was sliced deeply and there was scabbing along the inside of the wound. It had already begun to heal due to his witcher's blood. It was no longer bleeding or in need of a bandage, but it had not completely healed. Based on this he guessed he had been here for at least two nights. He heard footsteps headed towards his direction, and thought of Keira once again.

These were not her footsteps. In fact, he could not even sense her presence. Wherever she was, she was not close. He scowled at the door, she must have been the one who brought him to this place, which meant she saved his life once again. This only added to his frustration, what kind of spell had this sorceress placed on him to render him utterly useless? Why did she consume his thoughts? He stared vacantly at the tapestry on the wall directly across from his bed when the door creaked open.

Cassandra appeared in the door frame, holding a tray with what appeared to be herbal tea. She was dressed in the same rich blue dress as the night before, but her hat was missing. Lambert certainly didn't mind, since it was much easier to see her fair face. Her long blonde locks were unkempt, framing her delicate features. Her large doe-like eyes widened and her soft lips parted as she gasped, whirling around so her back was to the witcher.

"OH!" She gasped. He could not see her face, but her ears turned bright red. Lambert looked at her confused, and remembered once again that he was not wearing any clothing. "Uh...Oh!" He threw the blankets over his lap. "It's okay, I uh... I get that reaction a lot" He managed to say. He was not normally this awkward when he was naked around women.

She glanced over her shoulder, as if to see if he was decent. She turned around gracefully, as she composed herself. "I'm sorry master witcher, I did not realize you were awake. I thought you might like some hot tea when you woke up." She said, though he could feel her eyes lingering on him. He held her gaze, wondering what might happen next. As he looked into her eyes, he sensed that she was more curious than lustful. He though briefly about how Keira had looked at him the other night, and his gaze turned into a scowl, "Not much of a tea drinker." He mumbled crossing his arms as he glanced out the window. She was, as expected, unfazed by his prickly demeanor.

She moved gracefully, floating to the end table and placing the tray down and brazenly sat down on the foot of the bed near his feet. "Your wound," She said softly. Her hand reached towards his thigh, but his reflexes were quick. He grabbed her hand before it could reach his thigh. He looked up at her again, and noticed her bewildered expression. She had clearly never touched a witcher before, and the sensation was startling to her. She withdrew her hand quickly towards her body, and stared at him curiously. "You can definitely touch me" Lambert began, "Just... not there." He winced.

"May I?" She asked, gesturing to the blankets. Lambert sat up now, intrigued and nodded vigorously. "Oh, you may." He said with a smirk. She ignored his advances, and lifted the blanket to reveal his thigh. Her eyes widened once more, "Incredible!"

"I get that a lot too." Lambert said dryly, putting his hands behind his head.

"How did you do it?"

"I guess you can say I was blessed at birth. That's _all natural_ no magical enhancements-"

She audibly scoffed, but she did not seem annoyed by his playful banter "I'm talking about the basilisk! Tell me how you defeated it!" Her eyes were now filled with awe. She edged closer to him and he backed up hesitantly, as he felt her place her other hand on his other thigh.

"Well, I stuck a sword in it's head." He began casually, he moved closer to her and placed his hand on top of hers. He was close to her now, and she did not retreat.

"Usually when you do that-" He stopped suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. he could not remember if he had told anyone that the monster in question was a basilisk. In fact, he did not expect anyone in the town to have any idea what the monster was.

"Go on, please..." She said eagerly, "Was it a glorious battle?" She continued to press.

He sat back against the headboard again. "How did you know it was a basilisk?" Lambert said, his demeanor now cold. This woman was not who she appeared to be. He had made a mistake engaging her. He noticed something in her eyes that he had not seen since he met her the other day. She looked afraid, and almost instantly withdrew from him, contemplating her next words. She stood up and moved towards the window to put some space between herself and the witcher. Lambert took this time to swing his legs over the bed. Although the pain was not unbearable, he still winced as he threw the blankets over his lap again.

"I've read and written many poems and ballads about monsters, why wouldn't I know-"

"Bullshit." Lambert interrupted. He looked around for his clothing and noticed it was folded neatly in a pile on the ground next to the bed. He nonchalantly reached for his pants, "No one in this town has ever seen or heard of a basilisk before." He said without hesitation as he pulled on his pants. He braced himself as he stood up, placing most of his weight on his good leg. The pain wasn't unbearable, but it would be at least until this evening until he could go anywhere.

"You don't know that." She challenged.

He forced a laugh, and crossed his arms. "Oh don't I?" He shook his head, "No no no, you're right! Everyone who gives me a contract is an expert in monster anatomy and nomenclature." He said sarcastically. "Actually that makes sense considering the geniuses that you have here-" He stopped himself, noticing the heated expression on her face. Up until this moment, nothing he said seemed to bother her. She was glaring at him now and this excited him. He smirked, pleased with himself that he had managed to push her buttons. "You want to know what I think?" He began, he attempted to walk towards her but he was not nearly as graceful as she was. He wobbled slightly, grabbing a nearby wooden chair for support. She put her hands on her hips, and said nothing. "I think, you've been to that cave before." He said, scowling at his leg. "I saw your footprints." He added, continuing to wobble. He gave up on walking and lowered himself onto the chair. "What I can't figure out, is why someone like you would go somewhere like that."

She looked down, unable to hide the guilt in her eyes. "Did you see anyone? A young man, with white hair?"

"So you have been there." He said with a small smirk. He seemed pleased with himself that he had figured her out. His confidence only seemed to annoy her more. It was only after he took a moment to feel impressed with himself before he was able to process her question. "Huh? No..." He tried to recall the events from the previous night, but only Keira came to mind. He looked down, and crossed his arms. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate.

 _Damn elixirs..._ He thought. It must have caused a lapse in his normally sharp memory. It wouldn't have been the first time this happened. After a few minutes of silence, he managed to recall a being stepping into a portal. "Wait..." He began, holding a hand up. He had felt a magical presence farther in the cavern, but it disappeared when he reached the source. He shook his head, "I didn't get a good look..." he confessed finally and looked up at her suspiciously.

His eyes narrowed, and his expression changed from confused to frustrated. He was convinced that Cassandra was no small town girl. She had approached him when he arrived, she knew more about what was happening in this town than she let on. He was angry that he couldn't see the connection before, that he had let his pride get the best of him. It was an amateur move, he knew better.

"The sorceress... the woman with straw hair, do you know her?" She crossed her arms and looked away, he sensed jealousy in her voice.

Lambert's expression hardened, "What about her...?" He said coldly.

She hesitated, noticing his change in demeanor. "Take me there"

He scoffed. It was far too dangerous to bring someone like Cassandra to a place like that, and frankly not something he wanted to bother with. He wanted to take his earnings, find Keira and leave this village.

"And what else does her highness request of me?" He crossed his arms, and grunted. "Blow me." He said bitterly, reaching for the bread roll at the end table next to him. He bit down on the roll, and ripped into it like a wild animal. It was stale, and this seemed only to irritate him more.

"You haven't been paid for killing the beast yet." She said, dropping her hands to her sides. Lambert now looked up at her quizzically. "I've hidden your coin, and I will return it once you safely escort me to the beast's lair.

Moments of silence passed as Lambert processed her words. His expression became dark, but this did not seem to frighten her. "You shouldn't have done that." He said menacingly, though he could not hide the bubbling anger he felt. He had never had a calm demeanor, and certainly not when he was pissed off. "I could very easily get that information out of you." He said quickly. as he stood up again, ignoring the pain in his thigh. She seemed surprised at first, and he could tell that she was not used to men refusing her requests. As he moved towards her, she did not budge, his words did not frighten her. He tilted his head, and looked her up and down. "I could easily just kidnap you and extort the money from your admirers." He went on, his frustration building as he noticed she did not react to his threats. His eyes lingered on her body. "I could make you do anything I wanted to..." His eyes finally landed on hers, but his threats did not work. She stared at him with determination, and this only seemed to anger him more. He turned around, trying not to let her see the frustration in his eyes.

 _"That's it! I'm never talking to anyone again. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be nice Lambert. Sometimes it doesn't pay at all."_ He muttered.

"The woman you came here with. She may be in danger."

For a moment, Lambert looked uncomfortable. He could not hide the concern in his eyes, though he forced a laugh. "Oh yeah? So what?" He managed to say, barely looking over his should at her.

"I can tell you care for her." She said softly, she reached for his shoulder. Lambert spun around, sensing her movements. He let out a long sigh, and glanced again at his swords against the wall.

"Too dangerous." He said, "Even if you've been there before."

She said nothing, but continued to stare at him. He held her gaze, but found himself distracted by her eyes. Keira's eyes were different, they did not seem to match her fair appearance. They were jaded and cold. Some might even say they were ugly, to Lambert they were beautifully intriguing. Cassandra's eyes were as exquisite as her face, and somewhat hypnotic. He wondered briefly if he had even seen a woman as beautiful as she was. He certainly could not recall any of the many women he had met in his life while he was staring at this stunning creature. He felt his pulse quicken, and for a moment unable to look away.

"Please..." She breathed quietly. Her voice was soft, but she could not hide the desperation in her eyes. Her voice seemed to snap him out of his self-induced trance and shook his head.

"I don't have time for this." He mumbled and looked away, unable to hide his conflicted expression. "I'll take you there... tomorrow." He said as he sat down on the chair again. He picked up another bread roll and took a large bite. "Not my problem if you die."

Her eyes lit up, and she rushed over to him once again flinging her arms around him. He sat still as she did this, and in that moment he thought of what life might be like if he was not taken from his family, and had never become a witcher. If he had never gone through the trial of the grasses, would he marry and have children of his own? What would it feel like to be happy, or to be in love? He liked to think that he would be the same, but he had lost the ability to feel these emotions naturally during his mutation. For the minute they embraced, and he felt the warmth of her body against his own. He thought of those jaded green eyes again, and he felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.


End file.
